Dinner Music
by melpomene1066
Summary: A mix of book and movie set forward 80 years. A young musician finds passionate unconventional love in 1960's Madrid.
1. Chapter 1

_Rating: M for Very Dark Adult Themes_

_Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own the rights to Dracula_

_ Brief Summary: A mix of book and movie set forward 80 years A young musician finds passionate unconventional love in 1960's Madrid._

_**Dinner Music**_

_**Chapter one**_

_Things aren't always what they seem to be._

_The chill of lifelessness was like a gray haze of London fog in 1897, the last year of my normal life. Blood, red as encircling polished strings of rubies in a Maharaja's crown, dripped drop by slow, agonizing drop into a glistening viscous pool collecting on the stone floor. His clawed fingers, sharp and cold, caressed over my naked flesh._

_The stage was set, the night was young and what I wouldn't give for a good stiff drink . . ._

Music as sweet as any decanted late fall wine flowed through out the room. Mesmerizing those in attendance as surely as any crystal fob swung arch by hypnotizing arch before the eyes of the unknowing, but this crowd knew their enchanter, reveled in his youthful exuberance and drank up the nectar of his talent like parched men in the Sahara desert during a sand storm. The attention was flattering, of that there was no doubt, but Rafael Bartolomi was playing for only one person in the audience that night. He coaxed exquisite sounds from the strings of his violin, teasing softly, weeping in desperation, and then boldly declaring in notes rather than words his infatuation with the woman who sat in the very last row of chairs, as far from the stage and the violinist as the physical distances of the room would allow. He was like a moth to the flame that will burn it to ash in his attraction to her.

It was ever her spot to listen when she graced his concerts, always the farthest away. She was his friend, his confidant, beautiful as a moonlit, star studded sky, beyond earthly words in his eyes, but only those things and never more no matter how much he might have desired otherwise. He stole occasional glances her way; gauging his performance by the way she listened. Tonight was good, her eyes were closed and she swayed in the chair almost imperceptibly as a snake before its charmer, as if she were dancing to the music in her mind.

As the last notes fell away the room held its breath, all those transported by the music collected themselves and with a soft sigh of regret for the end began to clap. The murmur of approval akin to the hum of busy bees on a summer afternoon swelled as a wave on the ocean, hands reached to shake his, pleasantries were exchanged. Rafael glanced slyly in the woman's direction; she still sat, her face turned in his direction, a soft smile rose on her lips, approval in her countenance.

'Meet me outside.' She mouthed to him and rose almost more gracefully than was humanly possible, gliding from the room.

It took more time than he expected to finish with the well wishers, he worried she might leave. Just as he was finally able to make his exit a distinguished looking older man stepped from the shadows of the vestibule.

"Senor Bartolomi," he called.

Rafael turned and recognized the associate of the Countess Maria Pamona de Fallacci. The man bowed slightly and held out a card, a card of silk with raised gold lettering announcing a high and rarified status.

"The Countess wishes your presence tomorrow at her villa, to play a dinner engagement. She is much taken with your abilities and feels her guests would be equally charmed. There will of course be adequate compensation."

The last words were spoken with just the right hint of distain for the vulgarity of speaking of money, Rafael grinned to himself; he was young and not yet so popular that he had the proper disregard for income or coin of the realm. He was also American by birth, living in Madrid only a few years, finding the habits of old moneyed aristocracy quaintly amusing, at times tiresome.

"May we expect you?" The servant continued. "We dine at nine; we will want you to arrive by eight."

"Yes, please tell the Countess I will be honored." He bowed slightly to the man and turned to exit the club.

She was waiting on the far side of the street, leaning casually against an iron lamp post. The soft glow of the old gas light favored her, casting warmth to her cameo pale, perfectly beautiful face and spun gold hair. The black "City Paris" cashmere swing coat (oddly purchased in the city of the same name) she wore hid the shape of her slight, model thin figure. When he finally stood beside her, he was reminded again of just how tall she really was, for some reason from a distance she always looked small and vulnerable. But there was nothing vulnerable about her assured haughty look reserved for the rest of mankind, or the welcoming smile she gave only to him. He leaned to kiss her and got her cheek as usual; not that he hadn't tried for the lips many times with less than stunning success. With her usual sinewy grace she turned her face at the last moment presenting a cool, alabaster cheek for his affection. Only the first time had she needed to stare him down when he made further attempts. He still remembered that look, as wintry as the coldest day in Montana where he'd grown up on a ranch with horses and cattle.

"A lovely concert Rafael," She said quietly. She liked this boy very much, it would be sad to have to give him up eventually as she'd had to give them all up. His music made her feel different, transported from what she was, his talent was great, better than she had seen in a score of years. He belonged in the great concert halls of Europe, and he'd get there one day barring anything unforeseen, she'd see to it.

"What are your plans for tomorrow night?" He asked and she turned from her reverie to question him with an inquiring look. "I have been engaged by the Countess de Fallacci to play for her dinner guests, would you come with me?"

He noticed the slightest hesitation in her step on the sidewalk cobblestones that had been laid three centuries earlier, the tightening of her thin white hand on his arm, when he looked into her eyes there was wariness.

"What?" He questioned. "Whatever is wrong?"

She turned back to their destination and kept walking.

"For God's sake, Nicki, what the hell is the problem?" He was annoyed now, she knew her silence was making it worse, but it required a moment for her to frame her response. Should she warn him away, or just go with him to protect him from all the inherent dangers of an evening in Villa Fallacci. He was so painfully young with all of youth's brash daring; it would be hard to dissuade him.

"Nicki!" His strong musicians hand clamped hard on her coat covered arm and she instinctively jerked away.

They both stopped in unison facing each other.

"If she likes my work, it will be a chance at other engagements." Rafael tried to explain exasperated beyond all reason.

Nicki reached out and laid a slim, flower delicate finger gently against his pursed lips silencing the protest. She stepped closer.

"I don't like it; many strange things are said about what goes on in that place. But I will go with you my friend, because I would not see you alone there."

Rafael grinned, taking the opportunity to draw his distracted partner into the circle of his arms pulling her closer. "I'm a big boy; I can handle a few decadent aristocrats."

She didn't smile at his words, if only it were a few decadent aristocrats she wouldn't care, but the Countess' acquaintances were far from harmless, they were harmless like a basket of vipers.

"Come on." He chided loosening his grip and starting to walk again in the direction of his apartment. "It's cold out here, your hands are like ice, and we can discuss it inside."

_To be continued_


	2. Chapter 2

_Rating: M for Very Dark Adult Themes_

_Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own the rights to Dracula _

_Brief Summary: A mix of book and movie set forward 80 years. A young musician finds passionate unconventional love in 1960's Madrid._

_**Dinner Music**_

_**Chapter two**_

Rafael's apartment was small, cozy and very modern. It was on the top floor of a four story medieval era stone house that had been converted to separate living spaces shortly after WWII, now nearly twenty years later the scars of this conflict with all they entailed plus the previous civil war were all but gone. The courtyard was lovely and serene, with a fountain as ornate as a mini Trevi and lush late summer plantings, run wild with vivid green vines tangling amongst themselves. The night was quiet, the fragrance of heady night blooming jasmine lifted in the still air to the balconied window in the living room. Behind her, Rafael was building a fire in the grate and humming softly to the music from the radio.

"Come away from the window Nicki, have some wine."

She pulled the satiny, embroidered window curtains closed and joined him on the soft cowhide sofa.

The wine had a sweet heady bouquet; its taste was full of last summer's sunshine, of lavenders and spice as it sat upon her tongue. It was nice but there were other bouquets that vied for her highly attuned senses, pushed her finely balanced restraints and fed her ever growing hunger.

"What is so horrible about Villa Fallacci?" He finally asked casually.

"I've heard some stories that would make you swoon."

He smiled amused. She thought him too young, though she was probably only a few years older than his twenty one years, it amused him, when it didn't annoy him to no end. He didn't want to be annoyed tonight. It was rare that she would come to his apartment when they would be alone, it may have been l963, but nineteenth century sensibilities still ruled the day. He always had the feeling that she was protecting his reputation more than her own.

She watched the amused grin light his face. It made him look younger, more vulnerable, and infinitely more desirable. His mahogany colored brown hair tickled at the collar of his tailored shirt, longer than was usually worn and the gray of his eyes was like storm clouds on a hot July afternoon in the park, dark and possibly dangerous.

She saw him set his wine glass down and lift hers effortlessly from her fingers, it only took a moment and he was closer, leaning toward an inevitable contact, his eyes open holding hers until the last possible second when impossibly long dark lashes came down against the exquisitely sculpted plains of his cheeks and his lips touched hers.

It was a wonder; she hadn't turned her face away this time. Her lips were cool like the skin of her cheek, but softer; they warmed as he kept contact. Finally he felt a soft exhale of breath through her nose, almost like a sigh of resolve broken. Her hands came up to cradle his face; they were cold as ice, so very cold that he broke the contact. Quickly she tried to snatch them back, regret dwelt deep in her eyes, but he was too quick and captured them. He smiled his acceptance of her resignation as he rubbed the hands between his own; they were like two small captured birds lying within the cradle of his slender fingers, warming them against his flesh, raising each palm to his lips and blowing warm breath within the confines of his own hands to heat hers.

"Shall we try again?" He invited, moving even closer this time, his advance a steady assault in the manner of an advancing army, he kept her captured hands as he once again met her mouth. His tongue teased at her lips, she felt him smile in triumph as she pulled her hands free and reached up around his neck letting her fingers wander lingeringly through his lush full hair the color of which reminded her of her mother's antique desk. She parted her full lips giving access and the kiss deepened into a more sensual experience. He tasted of the wine he'd drunk and innocence, not a pure innocence, but of a wholesomeness not tainted by dark sexual fantasies.

His fingers were pulling at the pins in her hair, it came loose suddenly and cascaded down over his hands. It was like a river of silk, lush and heavy, he moved his lips up depositing kisses over her eyelids, down her nose, back to her mouth all while running his hands through the length of her spun gold hair. He wanted her in his bed; he lusted for the body he felt under the restricting clothes.

Nicki felt the fire of his lust, tasted it in his kisses, it heightened her desires, which were not so pure, not so gentle. She was not surprised when his hands caressed down her neck across her shoulders and hesitated only slightly before brushing over her ample breasts. When she did not move away they dipped lower catching the edge of her sweater and reaching beneath.

Her skin was cool all over, under his hands it heated from the fire of his own flesh, he had only a moment to be surprised by bare skin under the sweater before his hand grasped the soft yielding mound of her right breast and a whispered moan in the back of his throat gave vent to his arousal . His hand rubbed across the nipple and she gasped pressing her body against the hand wanting more.

He heard the growl start low in her throat, felt its vibration where her body touched his own and was taken completely unaware when he was yanked off the sofa to land flat on his back on the floor. He looked up stunned to find the woman who was his friend, the one he wished to make his lover straddling his hips, her short skirt hiked nearly to her waist, his wrists pinned effectively to the floor beside his head as she bent over him. Her eyes held a blank hungry stare, the pupils blown out until no color shown save a glowing green ring at the outer edge of the iris, the black centers reflecting the flames in the fireplace. Her red lips were parted in a feral smile that started the first sweaty tingling of fear in his spine; he didn't know whether she wanted to tear him apart or fuck him blind (he hoped for the latter). It was a dangerous feeling, but he didn't think he was helpless until he tried to release one of his hands and found he couldn't.

"Be still." She whispered, some of the color coming back to her eyes, she leaned down kissing him deeply her mouth mashing his lips painfully against his teeth, cold breath chilling his tongue. Her lips moved then to his throat, her tongue trailing teasingly up the curve of his chin, down beneath the hollow of his ear, tracing the line of his carotid artery. She felt the liquid elixir of his life force beating wildly beneath the flesh.

"You want to play rough," she snarled, "I play very fucking rough."

She stretched out over his body, molding against him so that he could feel every soft inch of her form eliciting a groan from him. Her tongue ran more trails of sensation up his throat, her teeth nipped at the earlobe and grazed over the pounding pulse only now the teeth felt long and sharp. Where she straddled him the movement of her body sent pleasurable shocks through his system. She felt his growing erection through the silk of her underwear, as she ripped his shirt from his body.

He never imagined in a million years she would be like this. He wanted desperately to roll them over, to be in control, but she was too strong and she was calling the shots. She was driving him to near distraction with her teeth on his throat.

"Nicki, please…." he groaned, but never got to finish because it was the bite that was his undoing. Fangs sharp as razors sheared through his flesh, the penetration was deep, erotically painful, and it sent him over the edge. A precipitous drop into star bursting orgasmic blackness that rushed at him with stomach churning speed, pain flared along all his nerve endings like a thousand burning electric shocks. He was being drained of everything, he could no longer see anything but light bursting behind his eyes and his body convulsed with an intense pleasure that sent him into complete unconsciousness.

Nicoletta Fallacci deBouche, formerly known as Mina Harker looked down at the violinist, this beautiful talented boy lay still beneath her, as a rag doll carelessly thrown in a corner, his eyes open, blank, staring. He was not dead, she had restrained herself with great effort in the nick of time, but she had taken a lot, it would take time for him to recover. Her fingers dipped to the small trail of blood oozing deliciously from his wounds. She still tasted him, wanted more as she savored the last bits from her fingers, the rich taste of his musical skill, the vibrancy and strength of youth, the delicate clean palette of innocence. Wiping up the last droplets and sucking her fingers clean she knew she had to have more. She wanted to know what his release tasted like, she could detect it in these tiny ruby red drops, but she had stopped drinking before the final moment. She bit again opening the wounds and sucked just a soupcon amount. The taste, oh the tantalizing taste, they moaned softly in unison one of his hands reaching into her hair.

Oh God, she was awful she thought as she gathered him into her arms and sat up holding him against her. His head lay there and his arms came up to lie lightly around her waist. Had she still been able to cry, tears would have fallen from her eyes, tears of regret for her years in the darkness of the devil's hand. Tears for her life changed forever by Dracula's unholy kiss. Amazingly, her violinist straightened a bit and tightened his embrace just a little.

"You are a most unpredictable woman Nicki, but I was thinking, and this may seem presumptuous, maybe we could do this without clothes next time and in this very soft bed I have."

The banal humor of his statement made her laugh, a spare amused chuckle.

"I think you need to be in that soft bed so you can rest up for tomorrow." She answered.

"Would you care to join me?" He ventured.

Her laughter caressed him with its sweet liquid sound. No tinkling brook could be as soothing. "You've had more than enough recreation for this night."

She stood over him watching the steady rise and fall of his breathing as Rafael slept. She drew smoke from her cherry juice soaked cheroot deep into her lungs, having no need to worry about this particular habit. In a weak moment she had considered bringing him over to keep him with her, but had as quickly dismissed the idea.

Exhaling a long blue stream of smoke into the night air she thought tomorrow would be interesting and fraught with danger. Rafael had no idea what she was or for that matter what had actually happened to him this night. She wondered also what her vampire mother wanted with the young musician. Her Madre was unpredictable, completely debauched in her insatiable thirst for young men and women.

Nikki sighed heavily; her time with Rafael would be short, so sad, now that she knew the depth of her taste for him, but she'd be damned even further than she was, than let The Countess have him. He was her moment of light in the darkness.

_To be continued?_


End file.
